


Les Amis de Mattachine

by defying3reason



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cruising, Daughters of Bilitis, Entrapment, F/F, Gays and Lesbians not getting along, Homophile Movement, M/M, Mattachine Society AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defying3reason/pseuds/defying3reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoire of the delightful Facebook group The Awkward Moment When Muggles Realize That Hogwarts Is Actually Real expressed a desire to read a Harvey Milk era Amis AU, but I'm more familiar with the pre-Stonewall era of gay rights work so I whipped this up instead. </p><p>In 1950s California, a chapter of the Mattachine Society is having some organizational issues as a result of the disruptive pining of one of its members.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Amis de Mattachine

**Author's Note:**

> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mattachine_Society
> 
> You can get a lovely, accessible introduction to the Mattachine Society, the Daughters of Bilitis, and their movers and shakers in John D'Emilio's Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: the Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970. It's an excellent read :)

The new boy Courfeyrac had brought to the meeting looked nothing short of terrified. Grantaire had to work to keep a smile off his face, as his amusement would be taken to be at Marius’ expense, which, to be fair, it completely was. He was just so precious, with his wide eyes and flushed face. Clearly he’d never heard a young lady yell about sucking cock in public before (well, if you considered a carefully arranged, clandestine meeting in Joly's living room public, anyhow).

Eponine and Enjolras had worked themselves up into a fine fury mostly by themselves. Grantaire had subtly guided the meeting’s focus from figuring out how to mail out their newsletters without getting themselves arrested for distributing pornography (though Enjolras did his best to keep anything even slightly obscene from appearing in their branch’s newsletter, the mere mention of homosexuality in a positive light was enough to get them in trouble with the feds) to the much more interesting and volatile subject of legal defense for men entrapped and arrested while cruising. They were trying to raise some money on Bahorel’s behalf, and Bossuet was missing his third meeting in a row because the man apparently had a thing for undercover cops. 

Thing was, the lezzies didn’t seem to think the right to hit on strange men and follow it up with public sex was a fight worth having. The ladies were concerned that sexuality that deviated to that far an extent from social norms was an embarrassment. And while some of the males in the club agreed that cruising was a potential embarrassment, even those who didn’t participate believed in a fellow’s right to look for company however he saw fit. It was an old fight, a fight that would never get resolved, and, in Grantaire’s opinion, an exceptionally fun fight to watch.

“I just don’t see why your complete inability to keep it in your pants until you get home requires my dues money for legal battles!” Eponine continued. “Sucking off some strange man in the dark is not a fundamental human right.”

“Agreed.” Musichetta crossed her arms over her chest, staring down anyone stupid enough to try challenging her with a look.

“You may not see it as such, but securing the right to our sexual expression without criminal prosecution is the whole reason we’re here, isn’t it? That’s what drew me to the Mattachine Society,” Enjolras said.

“Personally, I only got involved in the homophile movement because I felt there was nothing wrong with same-sex attraction,” Musichetta said. “However, _manic_ levels of anonymous sex, _in public parks_ is something I take issue with. It’s crude behavior, and your insistence on defending it is making us look bad.”

“Enjolras, all that anonymous sex you’re having is embarrassing the lesbians,” Grantaire called, knowing full well that Enjolras engaged in little to no sex of any kind, none of it anonymous. His personal ethics were pretty much in line with Musichetta, Eponine, and Cosette, though that wouldn’t stop him from fighting for the rights of men who felt differently to be free from entrapment.

“Please.” Eponine rolled her eyes. “We all know Enjy here is the one gay man in California who could _use_ a little anonymous sex. Can we get back to the point, please?”

“I thought the point was something to do with newsletters.” Combeferre shot an irritated look at Grantaire, who innocently took a sip of his beer. But their guide was looking a bit murderous, considering his temper was usually of the more pleasant in the room, so he excused himself to step out for some air.

Courfeyrac joined him a moment later. “Thank you so much for turning the conversation to furtively sucking fellows off while crouching in a bush. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough, Grantaire. I was starting to get worried that Marius might like us enough to come back for a second meeting.”

“He’s something else, that one. I don’t think I’ve seen a man turn such a fetching shade of magenta before. Well, unless you count Enjolras when I finally get him to drop that reserved coolness of his and let go.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Urgh, will you please find a new hobby? I enjoy your company, Grantaire, you know I do. But I swear, our branch of the Mattachine Society used to accomplish things before you joined us. We’ve got lawyers in this one. We were winning legal cases. And we used to get along with the lesbians.”

Grantaire opted to ignore the perfectly valid points Courfeyrac had just raised. He’d only be able to return with his tired old cynical observations, that the movement was too fragmented to even agree with itself about goals. They were never going to get anything accomplished on a scale that mattered. Gays and lesbians couldn’t even convince each other that they were normal and deserved respect; how were they going to convince anybody else?

“So what’s with this guy, anyway? This Marius. Why’d you bring him?”

Courfeyrac delayed answering by lighting a cigarette. Grantaire stole it from him after he’d taken a drag, giving him a further reprieve as he had to light a second. Once that was accomplished, he heaved a deep sigh and finally murmured a vague, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Courfeyrac dragged a hand through his hair and chuckled. “I think I’m being stupid, honestly. I took a shine to him when we were walking together the other night.”

Grantaire pretended to look scandalized. “Courfeyrac, cruising? And here I thought I’d heard you say that you didn’t have to go out looking for company. Don’t you always boast that it finds you?”

“Normally it does, and I thought it had on this occasion only…”

Grantaire almost dropped his stolen cigarette. “He’s straight?”

“It seems it, yeah. He’s a bit naïve. I’d invited him back to my place before I realized he had no idea what I was interested in. I only explained the concept of homosexuality the other morning, and I’m gradually bringing him around to the aims of the homophile movement-”

“But why?” Grantaire asked. “Why are you wasting your time with him?”

“I don’t know, Grantaire. Why are you wasting your time with Enjolras when he’s rejected all your advances already?” Courfeyrac snapped, turning defensive. “Because when you really like a guy, you just kind of hope he’ll change his mind about you, don’t you? Anyway, I only got him to come with me tonight because I promised to introduce him to Cosette. He’s fallen desperately in love with her, he says.”

“Ah. Does he realize she’s desperately in love with Musichetta?”

“No, I don’t think he does.”

They smoked in silence for a moment while Grantaire considered that. “Courfeyrac…you did explain what the Mattachine Society does, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I told him all about the homophile movement, and that we’re trying to convince experts and, eventually, the general public that there’s nothing deranged or abnormal about loving someone of the same sex. He thought it sounded very noble.”

“So…shouldn’t he have inferred that Cosette’s a lesbian then?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “In all honesty, I think the kid’s a bit naïve.”

“Naïve? I’d call him stupid.”

“He’s been living in my apartment with me for over a week, Grantaire. I’ve had enough conversations with him to know that he is not stupid.”

Grantaire stubbed out his cigarette and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression a challenge.

Courfeyrac returned it with the same easy smile he always wore as a mask. “You think I’m stupid for hoping Marius will take a liking to me even though he clearly likes women. I think you’re stupid for pining after Enjolras when he’s made his feelings brutally clear to you on several occasions. And you think Marius is stupid for falling for Cosette.”

“Yes, that about sums it up. So love has made idiots of us. What’s your point?”

“No point, I guess. Just that you shouldn’t jump to judgments. You ready to head back inside?”

Grantaire warily glanced at the door. “That depends. You think Combeferre’s still fantasizing about skinning me alive?”

“Hard to say from out here. But no one’s shouting anymore, so I’ll assume that they’ve gotten the meeting back on track in our absence.”

They walked back inside but found, far from having gotten on track, that the meeting had deteriorated beyond anything they’d witnessed before. Cosette coolly informed them of the creation of a group of homosexual women called the Daughters of Bilitis. They could focus on issues that mattered without the humiliating stigma of being associated with overly promiscuous males. She’d talked Eponine and Musichetta into leaving with her, which meant the Mattachine was down three useful members, and it’s not like they could stand on street corners recruiting.

Now even Joly, cheerful little Joly, looked like he wanted to strangle Grantaire. “Well, I think I’m about ready to call it a night. I’ll see you guys next week, yeah?”

Enjolras’ eyes were so cold Grantaire could have sworn he felt a physical chill. “Don’t bother. Thanks to you, there might not be a Mattachine Society to return to.”

“Me? How is this my fault?”

“Enjolras, don’t bother.” Combeferre put a hand on his chest, keeping him from charging forward. “You’ll never get through to him.”

“Mm. I’m stupid that way. Anyway, I’ll see you all next week,” Grantaire pointedly repeated. He gave a mocking little bow as he put on his hat and headed out the door.

* * *

Enjolras was still silently fuming when they left Joly’s apartment for their own. Combeferre let him stew for a while, leaving him to his pacing and grumbling while he sorted through the minutes of the meeting by himself at the kitchen table, and made a list of possible contacts for the newsletter distribution.

“You know, Enjolras, it could have been worse.”

Enjolras stopped pacing and rounded on him. “Worse? How could it have been worse? We lost three members, and I sincerely doubt Courfeyrac’s new friend will be returning. Did you see how uncomfortable he was? This is not the image we want to present to sympathetic heterosexuals.”

Combeferre removed his glasses and calmly began sorting their papers into tidy stacks. “We lost a waitress and two secretaries. The girls are undoubtedly clever and have been useful in the past, but considering what we require above all are persuasive writers, legal aide, and funds, their loss isn’t exactly catastrophic. Besides, I personally feel that they’ll come back. I’ve spoken to some women in this Daughters of Bilitis, and their aims are too small scale to satisfy our friends.”

Enjorlas looked mildly appeased. Combeferre almost didn’t want to continue, but something had to be said.

“However, I think it’s entirely unfair of you to place all the blame on Grantaire.”

Enjolras visibly bristled. “But it was his fault.”

“You’re the one who took the bait, Enjolras. You lost your temper and blindly followed where his prompts lead, and wouldn’t back down even when Joly and I tried to steer the discussion back where it belonged. You know better than that.”

“I-I know. It’s just…he gets under my skin.”

Combeferre stood up, gathering the neatly organized stacks of paper into his arms. “He does it intentionally. You know he likes provoking you, and you know exactly why he enjoys it.”

Enjolras followed him as he walked towards the bedroom. “I’ve rejected him as thoroughly as possible. What else would you have me do?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Combeferre was tempted to throw the papers in his face, but he managed to restrain himself mostly owing to the fact that he’d just spent an awful lot of time organizing them for such short lived satisfaction. “Perhaps you could tell him that you’re in love with me? Hm? You’ve rejected him, yes, but he still seems to think he has a chance. He still wants you to notice him. You haven’t gotten him to give up, Enjolras. And it’s not just a frustration for me anymore. His silly little crush on you is actually hurting our aims.”

Enjolras sat down at the foot of the bed. “I don’t think it’s a silly little crush, Combeferre. I…I’ve never seen passion like this from him before. He feels deeply towards me. It’s the only hope I’ve ever seen in the man, so forgive me for not wanting to stamp it out so thoroughly as you’d like.”

Combeferre put their papers away under a loose floorboard and joined his lover on the bed. He took Enjolras’ hand and kissed his cheek. “If you were entirely truthful with him then you might actually be able to be friendlier to him. In your attempts to avoid leading him on, you’ve actually been somewhat cruel. If you’d explain that your heart is already spoken for, you might be able to be a more honest friend. I think that’d be enough for him.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “I don’t know, ‘Ferre. I’m so used to hiding this…”

“Isn’t that our principal complaint about the movement? That homosexuals don’t even trust each other, so how can we convince anyone else that we’re normal and deserving of rights? You can trust our friends, Enjolras. I think it’s past time we told them.”

“I’ll think about it,” Enjolras promised. “Combeferre, you know that…you know that I’m not ashamed of it, right?”

“What, of loving me?” Combeferre grinned. “Enjolras, you convinced me of that a long, long time ago.”

Enjolras smiled genuinely for the first time all night, some of the stress of the meeting finally starting to leech out of him. They undressed in a companionable silence, and by the time they curled up together under the blanket, Enjolras safely nestled in Combeferre’s arms, Enjolras’ clever mind was off and running with new ideas for their next meeting.

Combeferre gave tired “mm hmms” where required, but drifted off to sleep with barely any idea of what they discussed. He only hoped that the first part, the important part, would follow through to the next meeting.

Really, it was only fair for someone to tell Grantaire, even if Combeferre had to do it himself.


End file.
